Family Business
by JNSx7
Summary: The Doctor has his rules of time and space; one of them is that you can't save someone if their death strengthens the future, even if its Martin Luther King, Jr.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Failure**

**Ninth of June, 1974**

My life ended like how it started: cold and meaningless.

I was so certain that I would succeed. I went through the plan in my head countless times. I looked at the building's (known as UNIT) schematics over and over again. I've made a perfect forgery clearance license to pass security. Heck, I even looked I belonged. With my tan skin, my short, barely visible brown hair, my big nose and my thin limbs. I just looked like I was just walking around in the building. But I wasn't just walking around; I knew where I was going, and whom I would find there. All I needed was information. And I will have it no matter what.

It all seemed so perfect, until I got to my destination: the Brigadier's room. And just how I planned it, he was sitting at his desk looking at some papers.

He saw me and asked why I was there. I just closed the door and walked right up to him. When he repeated his question I grabbed his throat and threw him across the room. Without hesitation I pulled out my weapon, which I had successfully hidden from security by hiding it in my left sleeve.

The "weapon" was strapped to my left arm. It was in the shape of a thin rectangle that consisted of switches and dials and had two projectiles like things in the front, like on a stun gun.

I aimed and fired at the Brigadier, my projectiles finding their targets on the Brigadier's chest. Turning the dials and flipping switches, I made the Brigadier stand up as easily as putting on a lab coat.

"I demand to know what is happening to me." The Brigadier said through clenched teeth.

I was surprised to hear him talk, because not many people were capable of speaking while the devise was active. So because he impressed me, I answered him. "I am simply overriding your nervous system by sending signals to your brain, which is how I am able to control your entire body so easily." I answered in my low, British accent. "Now then, enough chatting around. Just tell me where we could find him."

"Him?" He asked in a tone that I didn't approve.

"You know darn well who I am talking about. The impossible man. The man who lives outside the laws of time. The man who can't seem to die. The man of many faces. The man of not just one personality, but endless of them. I am talking about the Doctor. _That's_ who."

And then, even though he can't stiffen, he somehow managed to give the impression of being shocked. Then not five seconds later he said through clenched teeth, "Drop dead."

I stared at him blankly for about three seconds before I finally sighed. And then I said slowly, "Okay then. I gave you one chance, and you wasted it. If that is what you wish, very well."

Flipping some switches I took control of his right arm. Turning some dials I made him move his hand to his gun and made him pull it out.

"When this is over, it will look like you committed suicide." I said, containing my voice from sounding too proud of myself, but just enough for the Brigadier to take a hint.

I made him move the gun toward his head so slow it must had been torture for him, which I was aiming for. When the gun was pointing right at his bleeding right temple, I couldn't help myself, I laughed a long and quiet laugh.

I then said in a laugh loud enough to make a point but quiet enough to not alert anyone, "Long live the Maisons! May others fall so that we may rise! "

I reached for the black switch that squeezes the right hand, but most importantly, the right pointer finger. But then my body felt like someone took a broken, active wire containing two thousand volts and plunged it into my skin. My body went stiff. My eyes widened, knowing what was happening to me.

My right hand was turning some dials as if it had a mind of its own. And before I knew it, the Brigadier was slowly bringing his gun to point at me. If I had the ability of trembling right then and there, I would have, but of course I couldn't.

A voice that I had heard before entered into my mind saying in a voice that sounded like a million people whispering all at once, _"It is too early to strike. Killing him would change too much of the Doctor's life. We may not have _existed_ if I didn't stop your foolish plan."_

"_Please!"_ I begged back at the all too familiar voice. _"Please, don't! Give me another chance! I beg of you! Please!"_

The voice came back sounding harsh saying, _"We gave you one chance, and you wasted it. There's no room for_ failure_ in the Maisons!"_

I pressed on. _"But this man won't be silent about this."_

"_We will make sure he forgets about this foolish event."_

_"But you need someone in this sector."_

_"Your son will be more than happy to fill in your shoes."_

There was absolutely nothing I could have done. I looked at the Brigadier and saw that his gun was pointing right at my chest. I knew what would happen next. _"No! NO!"_

"_May others fall so that we may rise!"_ My hand flipped the black switch.


	2. Chess Board In Pieces

**Author's Note: Before anyone gets offended, I have to mention that this is how people used to talk in that area at the time. Thank you, and enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Chess Board In Pieces**

The sound of roaring mechanics fill the air as a blue box slowly materializes into existence in an alley. The alley was dark, even though it was daytime, but was illuminated by the light coming from the top of the blue box.

A tall, fair man with long brown hair that's pushed to the front right wearing black leather pants, a long, brown tweed jacket and a red bow-tie steps out of the blue box followed by a white skinned teenaged girl whose black hair is curled up in a bun in the back. The girl was wearing black high heels; a long, short sleeved, droopy, black shirt that passes her waist that is over a black skirt. The skirt comes down below her knees and is speckled with random white dots and stripes, covering most of the skirt on the right side.

The two are walking down the dark alley when the teenaged girl, named Clara, asks "Where and when are we?"

The man, known as the Doctor, answers "Earth, Memphis, Tennessee. Almost 1970 if I got it right this time. Lately I have miscalculated my landing. Why, once I tried to go to Miami, Florida just to get a smoothie, but instead I ended up on Mars in the year 2059." He said all of this while looking out in the distance. "But you know what I did?" The Doctor said to Clara now looking right at her.

"Yeah, I remember. You nearly walked outside before you saw the screen of the outside, then you said, 'What the Neurons?' And then you just shrugged it off and put on a spacesuit." She said this as if she had been there herself. Oh, wait. She entered in the Doctor's time stream, so technically, she had been everywhere with him.

"That's right!" Said the Doctor with a wide smile and a jump. "I 'shrugged it off.'" While he repeated what she said the Doctor batted her on the back as if saying congrats.

"Now then," continued the Doctor, "lets have a look around the area. There's bound to be a place to grab a bite and a chat." The Doctor said looking around the area, just getting out of the alley.

Clara looked left and saw a place with a window which she assumed was a diner of some sort, because on the window is a sign which looks like it was done by hand a while ago. On the sign in big, black writing read, '**ALL WELCOME**'. Clara tapped the Doctor with her fingers saying, "Doctor, how about there."

The Doctor looked at where she was pointing and smiled that wide, cheerful smile of his. "Ah, well done Clara." The Doctor said. No more than a second before he finished, he walked right towards it, followed by Clara.

Seconds later, the Doctor and Clara walked into a small bar looking place with the bar on the side, with the bartender handing people their drinks. Clara and the Doctor walked up to the bartender and asked, "Excuse me, fine sir. What do you got that my friend and I may enjoy? None alcoholic would be much appreciated." The Doctor said, sitting in a seat right in front of the bartender. Clara sitting on the Doctor's left.

The bartender is a black skinned man with short black hair. He's about six feet tall and is wearing an apron that looked too small for his muscular build. The bartender just looked at them for a good five seconds, switching from Clara to the Doctor then back, then he grinned a huge grin and nodded. "Sure thing." The bartender said in a very deep, southern american accent.

"We have water if you two are fine with that. But if you ask me, the water may not be suitable for your taste."

"As long as it is safe to drink, we'll take it." Said the Doctor.

"Very well. Be right back." When he returned with the drinks, he laid each one next to Clara and the Doctor, and in a loud, booming voice so that everyone in the bar could hear, he said, "These drinks are on me! For my new friends here!"

Silence followed. Actually-Clara realizes—the only person to make a sound since she and the Doctor entered in the bar was the bartender. Everyone just stared at them. Clara suddenly realized that the Doctor and herself are the only ones that are white skinned. Everyone else there were dark skinned.

Then she heard a high-pitched noise, saying, "Yeah!" It was a dark skinned boy holding a woman's hand, which Clara deduced was the boy's mother. Then everyone else started cheering. "What's all this about?" Clara said with a smile.

"We don't get much white people in here." Answered the bartender, still wearing his smile. "These are troubled times, but it is without a doubt getting better, thanks to someone finally speaking out for us negroes." He then said in his booming, deep voice, "God bless equality!" Then everyone else cheered, "God bless equality!"

Clara had to ask what's on her mind. "How come you don't get much white skinned in here? Doesn't the people know the sign says, 'All Welcome'?"

They know what the sign says." The bartender said, his smile now replaced by a serious expression. "Most white men—even around here—are still uncomfortable with my kind. But, hey," the shrugged, "it used to be much more worse around here. I am just grateful to God for giving me this here bar of my own." The bartender replied while moving his arm in a wide circle, motioning for the entire bar with his smile.

"Why," the bartender continued, "if it wasn't for good ol' Marty, I'll still be searching in the garbage to find something to feed my family with. With all of the… underpaid Negroes, I'm still surprised we made it this far."

"Marty? Whose this Marty?" Clara asked.

The man looked confused that she asked that. Then he asked, "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No. I'm from London." Answered Clara.

"The bartender looked at her again, this time he looked like he was observing her. Then he smiled and again addressed everyone by saying in a loud voice, "Hey! Not only are my new friends white, but there British!" This was followed by some more cheering.

"Yeah, so?" Clara asked.

"You two are my first British customers."

"Well," started the Doctor, putting down his drink that he was drinking, "she's British." Gesturing at Clara. "I'm…" the Doctor looked for the right words, "I'm… not British, let's just say. So, you've been talking about Marty?"

"He's a good soul, that man is. If it weren't for him we Negroes would probably never have gotten our spirits back. Why, I nearly gave up hope." He says this while looking out in the distance, as if seeing it all again. "I was in my small house, caring after my four beautiful children all by myself ever since my wife died by cancer. I was sitting on the bed, thinking all was lost, when I heard a voice on the radio, saying the speak "I Have A Dream". I'll tell you." The bartender was now looking at the two companions. "When I heard that speech, I said to myself, 'this man has been sent directly from heaven above to save us. Now Negroes will finally, truly live on God's given Earth.'"

"Oh, wait a minute!" The Doctor said in a voice that sounds like he accomplished something. "Marty. As in Martin. As in _the_ Martin Luther King jr.! The man of equality! The man of peace! The man that changed the difference between whites and blacks!"

"That's right. Negroes all across North America are finally taking a stand: going in groups in white populations yelling, 'Harmony! Harmony!' and holding up signs saying, '**I ****AM**** A MAN!**' and '**DO THE CHESS BOARD**'.

"Chess board?" questioned Clara.

"On a chess board there are white _and_ black squares, together, not half white and the other black, but together. And no matter how many times the whites beats up the protesters, we will not be silent." Said the bartender.

"Sorry by asking, but what year is it?" Asked the Doctor all of a sudden.

"Why, it's nineteen-sixty-eight."

The Doctor looked down in realization, and then looked back at the bartender and said, "Thank you. We must be going now." The Doctor then grabs Clara's right shoulder and hurriedly led her out of there.

"Doctor, what's wrong?" Questioned Clara, but the Doctor kept on walking away, pulling Clara with him. "Doctor, what's the matter?" Clara tried again.

"The year." Was the entire thing the Doctor said.

"What about it?"

"It's the year Martin Luther King jr. is assassinated."


	3. It Has Begun

**Author's Note: Yes, yes. It's Clara. I looked it up, and it said Clara would be with the 12****th**** Doctor. How, I have no idea. So I just wrote that she still travels in the T.A.R.D.I.S. with the Doctor.**

* * *

**Chapter Three: It Has Begun**

This is it. The moment I was waiting for. My time to deem my worthiness to the Maisons. I went over the plan again in my head, one last time. I checked to make sure everything is in order: my pistols concealed in my tweed, light gray jacket; my razor sharp daggers which I had made double sided, each strapped to my right leg, right on my hamstrings, hidden by my light gray pants; my light gray hat hiding my… _special_ little gift; my new weapon strapped to my left arm, right under my left sleeve; and, last but not least, my tie. You always look more professional in a tie.

I look at my self through my house's front window. My tan skin; my long, light brown hair coming to my eyes and giving the back of my head a mollet; my big, round nose on my face; and a diagonal scar on my left eyebrow from fighting in the war. So what if I was a traitor to my own land? So what if I served under Hitler? I just killed the man in the end anyway, but of course I had to make it look like suicide. I grinned at the memory. As we always say, "May others fall so that we may rise."

_It_ will begin soon.

* * *

The Doctor is still speed walking with Clara in his hand. "Doctor? Where are we going?" Clara asked.

The Doctor stopped and finally let go of Clara. "To the T.A.R.D.I.S. A.S.A.P."

"Why? Are we going to save Martin Luther King, Jr., then?"

"No. That's why we are leaving." Said the Doctor with a very serious expression.

"What? And why is that?"

The Doctor stopped in his tracks. He looked at Clara right in the eyes. "Remember what I was talking about when we landed?"

Clara's eyes were looking on their left side in concentration. "Um… you were talking about how you miss up sometimes on landing."

"And one of those times I ended up on Mars in the year 2059. There I encountered the first humans to live on Mars. There was this woman, named Adelaide Brooke, she was meant to die, because her granddaughter would be the reason humans gone further into space. Her death made humans touch the stars. And Martin Luther King, Jr.'s death made Senator Robert F. Kennedy to say, that very night, that they must strive for love, wisdom, understanding and compassion toward all men. That helped make people open their eyes even wider than before, and they learned that the weight of the future rested on their shoulders, now more than ever. It gave them strength, Clara." The Doctor is now grabbing Clara by her shoulders. "It gave them more courage then they could imagine."

"B-but that still might happen if we save him. America got stronger _because_ of him!" Clara said hotly, pushing the Doctor's hands off her shoulders.

"Clara, you know that I can't save him."

"And what if you didn't know the future! What if all you knew was that there is this innocent man about to die, and you have the power to save him! Would you let him die or would you save him?"

The Doctor just stared at her. His eyes looking into her own. The Doctor took a deep breath, and sighed. "Okay." The Doctor said in a hushed voice, completely gone of emotions. "We'll have it your way. We'll save him."

* * *

**April, 1968**

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was in his usual hotel, the Lorraine Hotel, in the suite known as the "King-Abernathy Suite" in room 306 on the second floor. He was thinking about the sixteen-year-old Negro who was killed during a nonviolent protest in downtown Memphis. Dr. King, knowing that some people would not stop until he was dead, so Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. won't stop preaching words from God any time soon. He knew that there's a light inside everyone of God's creation.

All of a sudden there was this mechanical grinding noise, very faint, but then grew in sound, and with it, a materialization of a blue box in the middle of his suite. True, Dr. King was scared, but he knew that whatever it was, he has served God well, and nothing could stop that.

The mechanical grinding noise stopped, and in the middle of the "King-Abernathy Suite" was a police box. He did not expect this. And then he sees the doors to the police box open suddenly wide with the squeaks of the doors' hinges. And what stood in front of the police box was a girl wearing long, loose, black clothing. The girl smiled warmly at him. "Hello. My name is Clara Oswin Oswald, and I incest that you step into this police box, please."

* * *

Something happened. I can feel it. The whispers in my head… they are different somehow. They sound… louder… a lot more… _pleasing_ somehow. I just put a grin on my face. "It has begun."


	4. Silence

**Author's Note: Lets give a round of applause to lindsey20 for being my very first follower. (Applause sound) (Audience gets so hyped up they generate so much energy that their iPads burst into flames because the sound of the audience's applauding had indeed attracted the attention of the suicidal, bursting into flames, deadly, intelligent bowling balls and exploded their iPads because they thought that taxes are too high.)**

**Chapter Four: Silence**

"Amazing, isn't it?" Clara asked their new guest.

"My, oh, my." Martin Luther King, Jr. said in awe, still spinning in circles, trying to look at everything in the T.A.R.D.I.S. "This is truly incredible."

"I know; but, she can be quite stubborn sometimes—no offence Doctor."

The Doctor was still at his controls, looking like he hadn't heard her. Clara wasn't so sure, but it looked like he was mad at something, giving a glare in no directions but at his controls.

"So, Mr. King, what are your thoughts? Are they something on the lines of, "it's bigger on the inside'?" Clara asked with a smile.

"My thoughts are that this creation is one of the many endless proofs that the Lord Almighty never stops giving His children wonders. And yes, Clara," Martin Luther King, Jr. said, now looking at Clara, "it is 'bigger on the inside'."

Then there was a noise that sounded like mechanical grinding, signaling that the T.A.R.D.I.S. was coming into that time's existence. "Doctor," said Clara, "you left the brakes on, again." That was the reason the T.A.R.D.I.S. keeps making that same mechanical grinding noise when it is appearing into a tangible substance on the outside.

The mechanical grinding noise stopped, meaning that the T.A.R.D.I.S. has reached its destination. "We're here." Said the Doctor in a voice that sounded like it was holding back rage, but failed.

"Exactly when, Doctor?" asked Clara.

"Not too long. A few hours, perhaps."

"Well then, should we be on our way, Mr. King?" Clara asked Martin Luther King, Jr.

"If you wish, Clara." Replied Dr. King.

Clara walked to the T.A.R.D.I.S.'s doors with Dr. King by her side; the Doctor staying at his panels. When Clara opened the doors to the outside she thought she would see the inside of the "King-Abernathy Suite" in room 306; she thought she would see the Lorraine Hotel, known for its many visits by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.; she thought she would see the fire-station across the road from the hotel; she thought she would see Memphis, Tennessee with the sun shining down on an untold day; but, what Clara saw instead was the remains of the Lorraine Hotel. The once proud hotel, owned by Walter Bailey, was nothing but crumbling, ashen walls.

"Doctor! The hotel's destroyed!" Yelled Clara.

"What?" The Doctor left the panels and was running to the doors to the outside. Just before the Doctor stepped out, an electrical current came out of the walls just behind the doors, electrocuting the screaming Doctor.

"Doctor!" Screamed Clara as she bolted to the T.A.R.D.I.S.; but, before she got to the doors, the doors to the T.A.R.D.I.S. slammed shut. "Doctor! Doctor!" Clara screamed as she pounded against the doors. "Doctor! Doc-" Before Clara could finish her sentence, there was a loud, and high pitched ringing in her ears. Clara became very nuisance, the world spinning all around her. Clara fell to the ground in complete darkness.

* * *

Punch! "Tell me!" I screamed at my prisoner, yet again.

As usual, my prisoner, who is tied up in the chair said nothing, not even a whimper. Even though she now has bruises all over her, she still refuses to talk. Silence. That's what she has been doing this entire interrogation: pretending to be some brave hero who would keep her secrets to her last breath. Typical.

"Fine." I spoke through clenched teeth. "Then perhaps I shall start using different methods." I rolled up my left, gray sleeve and showed her a rectangular device strapped to my left arm.

"You know what I can do to you with this? I can make every one of your nociceptors _screaming_ to your spinal cord. I can make every _cell_ in your body feel like an atom bomb. I can make you feel the entire _force_ of Hell. Now tell me," I leaned in closer to her face, "Where! Are! They!"

It looked like she moved her lips. I leaned in closer to hear what she was saying. "What? Say that again." I commanded. Instead of a response, she spit her blood in my face. I just stared at her with an emotionless expression on my face. "Fine." I said calmly. "You made your choice." I stood up straight and pointed the rectangular object towards her. I then used it on her.

Oh, her how her screams make my day.


	5. Street Murder

**Chapter Five: Street Murder**

Clara awoke to some jarring about her, the sounds of a car's engine, and the smell of beer and cigarettes. When Clara was still regaining her senses, she noticed that she was tied up with thick rope wrapping around her wrists and ankles. She also found that she was sitting on a rough, hard next to a man in similar conditions as her's. Clara looked around, and saw that she was in the back of a small, round-ish car.

"She's awake." A rough, male, New York accent came into Clara's ears.

"It's about time; I hate it when people drool in my Fiat 500 L." This voice came from the driver's seat and sounded even rougher than the first's.

"What's going on?" Asked Clara.

"You and ya' friend here have tha' right ta' remain silent." was the only reply Clara received.

"The _right_? You kidnapped us! What gives you the right to tell me to remain silent?"

"Tha' law, _that's_ what."

"Law? What law, what _law_ did we break?"

"Tha" law that says we can defend our country from people who were scheming to overthrow our nation."

"Scheming? We were not scheming."

"Oh, so ya' say, but me and my partner here heard ya' plottin', that's all tha' judge needs ta' hear."

_They didn't hear anything._ Thought Clara. _They just want to put us in jail because Martin's black._ "So, that's it. You're going to put us in jail so you can torture us, is that it?"

"No it ain't. We aren't allowed ta' do that. Says so in the Declaration, err, somethin' like that. It's on some form of paper."

Suddenly, there was a black, sedan coming fast on the Fiat's left. "Hey," said the one in the passenger's seat, "what's that driver doin'?"

Before the driver could answer, there was a popping noise, and then the Fiat driver's hear fell on the car's horn. "Holy smokes!" The remaining man said, trying to drive the car himself.

The passenger of the sedan said something to the driver, and the black, sedan came closer to the Fiat. Actually, the sedan completely rammed into the Fiat, but saying 'came closer' is accurate enough.

The third passenger in the back of the sedan rolled down his windshield, and then punched the back of the Fiat's windshield. "Come on!" Said the woman who destroyed the windshield. Clara didn't need to be asked twice. She unbuckled herself and Martin. She grabbed the woman's outstretched hands as best as her tied up ones could. The woman pulled Clara into the sedan. The woman then outstretched her hands for Martin's, but she found that he was still slumped in his seat; apparently, Martin was still dazed off.

"Oh, you got to be kidding me." Said the woman right before she dove into the Fiat. She grabbed a hold of Martin and pulled, but he wasn't exactly, 'Mr. Low-Density', but still the woman somehow managed to drag Martin out of the Fiat and into the sedan. But before the sedan drove off, the woman pulled out a small gun and fired at the remaining man, letting him sleep forever with his partner. "Pull out!" Said the woman to the driver.

Just when the black, sedan pulled out, the Fiat ran into a brick building, leaving the answer to what happened to burn in the car.

"Well," said the man in the passenger seat. "That worked a lot more smoothly than I thought it would."

"You killed them." Said Clara, shakily.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, we did. Sorry about that." Answered the woman, a little too calm. The woman was white skinned with short, blonde hair, and was wearing a black, short-sleeved dress with a long, loose skirt attached to the dress.

"Sorry? That's all you've got to say? That was murder!" Clara replied, angrily.

"Look, kid! I don't like how the U.S. turned out either, but this is how it must be!"

"No it doesn't! How are you any better than those men back there?"

"We're better because they were going to kill you the minute you and your friend here were found guilty just for being with a black man! They were going to kill you, and then everybody would just shrug it off as another racial act! And trust me when I tell you that there has been a lot more of those ever since that day!"

"And what day would that be?"

The man driving answered, "The day that Martin Luther King, Jr. disappeared."

* * *

"Any word from them?"

"None, sir."

I have been waiting for the day that a blue, police box would reveal itself, and when it finally had, the men who called it in won't respond to my attempts to contact them. Or, perhaps they can't. Which means they're most likely dead. So, who killed them? It couldn't have been the Doctor, we made sure of that; it couldn't have been Clara, she's not the killing type; and it most certainly couldn't have been Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. So it must have been an attack from that group again.

I went to my newest prisoner—she has become my favorite prisoner. I got to her cell, and walked inside. She was curled up in a ball in the corner, remaining silent. "It appears the men in charge of keeping a lookout at the Lorraine Hotel aren't responding to my attempts to contact them. Which means they are dead." I moved closer to her so my face is just inches from her. "Your brother is doing everything in his power to save you. Isn't that sweet?" She just continues to stare at the floor. "I think we'll just have to eradicate the problem, won't we?"


	6. Miss Them

**Sorry about the long wait (not really), but I was writing all of these fanfictions on paper (in my head) and I lost (forgot) a lot of it (probably should have wrote it down), so yeah (filler words), I am sad right now (start digging the grave). Blah, blah, blah, whine, whine, moan, economy, Dorito, watermelon, monkey with a chainsaw (did that give you any ideas for a story?) ON WITH MY STORY!**

**Chapter Six: Miss Them**

The girl, curled up in a ball in the cell, kept her head down until the man in the gray suit and hat were far enough away. The girl lifted her head off her knees, face expressionless, and looked around. No one was near.

She pulled out the gray suited man's knife, sharpened to be double-edged. He didn't even notice that she took it. She looked at the knife, turning it in her hands, observing every angle. She tucked it between her belly and folded legs. She put her arms around her legs, put her head down, and slept.

* * *

Journal title: Clara's arrival

She came into our underground sanctum with a man who's one of us with her. The girl is white, young, black hair, wearing black clothing. She's wearing so much black, as if to mock us, but I hope we can trust her. The man she was with is older than she is. Looking to be about twenty years older than the girl, wearing a black suit, short, black hair; looks unfocused, it is possible the 'lawmen' purposefully overused their advanced technology on him; if so, then the reason why they did that is because he's a Negro. God willing, this one will live through the night.

God help us.

-Noah

* * *

After the ride, Clara and Dr. King have been lead into a building blindfolded. They said the reason for this is because of safety matters. Clara suspects it is because they do not trust them.

The building was a dark, cement looking building (probably underground, Clara thought) with lots of narrow corridors and doors that look like they are about to break off at any second. Why would anyone want to make this place their "sanctum"? Probably because it is better than the alternative; whatever it was.

There were at least fifteen people there, all black, except two. One of them was the woman in the car, and the other was a blonde, freckled, tall, skinny man in a tattered suit.

They all looked them, as if they were wild dogs being lead into a building. All were staring, except one, an old looking man with brown skin and black hair that looked like it started turning grey a long time ago. This man walked up to the man who was driving earlier that day and said in a polite tone, "What happened?"

"Some 'lawmen' were taking these two against their will without any charges."

"And what happened to them?"

The driver paused for a few seconds, having on an expression that told Clara that he was thinking of his next words carefully. "We had to help these people." he simply stated.

"But what happened to the men who were taking these two?" the old man urged again.

"Nothin' much." the person who was in the passenger seat earlier that day piped up, smiling as he said, "They just got what they deserved in the end: an eternity of misery with no radio or air conditioners."

The old man sighed. "They are dead, aren't they?"

"We did what we had to." said the blonde woman.

After a second of silence, the old man said slowly and softly, as if a voice from a loving father to his children, "No, you didn't."

"Just give us a break, Noah. They attack us, we attack them."

"That is not the way we have been taught."

"Well than that must mean what we've been taught was wrong." the blonde woman looked like she was on the verge of hitting something.

"Kate," Noah said softly. "You know that killing is wrong."

A long silence followed after that. Then, to Clara's surprise, Kate started to cry. "I just miss them." she said through a lump in her throat. "I just miss them so much."

"We all do, Kate. We all do." More to Clara's surprise, Kate hugged Noah, crying onto his shoulder.

Seconds after, Clara couldn't help herself, and asked the driver in a soft voice the question she had. "They miss who?"

The driver leaned into Clara's ear, as if he was about to tell her a secret; but whatever it was, it looked like everyone knew. He said to her in a hushed voice, "The King's. They were all murdered on television."

* * *

The girl in the cell banged against her bars as loud as she could. "Quiet!" shouted a 'police man', but the girl did not stop. "Quiet, or I'll teach you a thing or two about respecting the law!" Still, the girl would not stop. "Fine than. I'm coming in."

The 'police man' unlocked her cell door and stepped in, cracking his knuckles. "It has been a while since I've done this." But before the man could throw a punch, the expressionless girl grabbed out the concealed knife with her right hand and thrust it upwards in the man's abdomen, covering his mouth with her left.

She pressed him to the wall. The man was taken by surprise and it was a fatal hit with the man was too weak to successfully struggle, so the girl did not let go of him until she saw his life leave him through his wide open eyes.

Once the deed was done, the girl in the filthy clothing pulled out the knife with her hand that was now covered in blood, and walked out of her cell.


	7. Answers

**Chapter Seven: Answers**

The Doctor opened his eyes with a start. He found himself laying on the ground. He jumped to his feet. "Clara!" he yelled at the top of his voice.

He looked around and found that he was surrounded by whiteness; nothing but white. Everywhere he looked was absolute whiteness: above him; below him; around him was white.

"What is this place?" asked the Doctor to himself.

"_Welcome to The Mind."_ said a voice that sounded like millions of people talking at the same time. _"A place where absolution is imminent, _Doctor._" _it said the word Doctor with a lot of hatred.

"Who are you? What have you done to Clara?" the Doctor yelled at the unknown.

"_So many pointless questions, _Doctor_. It isn't about Clara—she's only one of your chess pieces—it is you who we want, _Doctor._"_

"Why am I here?"

"_You are the commanding leader of the pieces—without you, the pieces cannot move."_

"So, that is what I am to you: a prisoner of battle."

"_No, not a battle, but a war."_

"What war?"

"_The war of the Maisons and the Doctor."_

"Never heard of you."

"_Of course not, _Doctor_, you have not meet us yet."_

"So, what? Your my future, which makes me your past?"

"_You are our past, present, and future."_

"Ah, the old 'past, present, and future' speech; how unoriginal."

"_Joke, _Doctor_, joke. For we will not be first to do so."_

"Oh, and who was?"

It answered in a slow, menacing way, _"Clara Oswin Oswald."_

The Doctor didn't respond; he just stared into oblivion, soaking in the words the voice gave him. "So, what you are saying is that you jumped into my time-stream?"

"_No, for we are not copies, but a family of a new species."_

"And what species would that be?"

"_Homo multi-sapiens."_

"What?" asked the Doctor. "So, instead of 'Thinking mankind', you're 'Multiple thinking mankind'?"

"_Precisely, _Doctor_."_ replied the voice.

The Doctor thought of the answer it gave him. "You are multiple bodies with one mind?"

"_A way of communication through space and time through minds."_

"So when you said 'Welcome to The Mind.' you meant your mind?"

"_Exactly, _Doctor_."_

"Why are you telling me this?"

"_Because now you will always think of what we told you, never finding an explanation."_

Suddenly, the Doctor fell forward, as if someone pushed.

"Sir. Sir." The Doctor heard a faint, unfamiliar voice. "Sir, there's an officer down."

"Wait a minute." said the Doctor as he stands up, a realization striking him. "Wait a minute! Wait a minute! This all isn't real, is it?" The Doctor holds out his hand, staring at it. "This isn't my real hand, it's just what I remember about my hand. Which means I am not standing in this white oblivion, I am unconscious hooked up to something, aren't I? And if I am hooked up to something which allows something to talk to me, then that means someone is also hooked up to whatever I am hooked up, am I right? Did that make sense?-who cares! And that force that shoved me to the ground just then, that was just the force that is currently pushing whoever is talking to me. You aren't multiple people, you're just one person with a machine."

"_That is where you're wrong, _Doctor_!" _it said with lots of venom. _"We are the Maisons! We will destroy you and everything you care about! There isn't a place where your loved ones can hide, that we cannot find! For we are everywhere!"_

The decided that that was the right moment to annoy the voice. "For we talk at the same time. For we shall burp at the same time. For we shall conquer the universe. For we are everywhere, even in the toilet; so please, don't flush and remember to put the seat down. For we shall crush the weak, for that is all we can crush; for we have all bark, no bite. For we have unimaginable power, for we have no imagination. For we have unlimited rice pudding. Et cetera. Et cetera."

"_We shall destroy you; but slowly, so you can feel the intense pain of your failure, so you can feel your entire existence burn. You will watch as your friends are tortured, you _begging _us to kill them to end their suffering!"_

"No!" the Doctor had enough of this crap. "No you won't. You know why? Because I won't give you the chance to." the Doctor seethed.

"_We'll see. The whole universe will see!"_

* * *

Officer Charles Bai was the one who found the body of Officer Nick Symthe dead on the floor in the prison cell. He was the one who ran to the warden. He was the one who shook the warden from his slumber in the warden's own chair. He was the one who said, "Sir. Sir. Sir, there's an officer down." He was the reason the letters in the warden's head said, END OF CONNECTION. ACTIVATING SLEEP MODE TO **THE DOCTOR**. He was the reason why the warden woke up and asked where the body was, and when the warden received his answer, took one of his knives and slit Officer Charles Bai's throat, saying, "I told you not to wake me."


End file.
